Buyer’s Market(185)

It started with the insane few hours that saw Lucien and I head into the dead Deputy Warden’s office. And sure enough, behind the bookcase there was a passageway. Built most likely when the prison was first constructed, it was designed for administrative staff to leave if there ever was a prison riot.

The Deputy Warden must have been maintaining it for a while because we were able to follow the path all the way down to the other side. It took us nearly half an hour of walking single file down that tunnel, but it deposited us more than two miles away from the prison and out of range of any police vehicles or state troopers.

We made our way toward the nearest town and that night checked into a motel.

He hid for a moment as I picked up some clothes from a local Ross and brought them back to him.

We’re finally inside the motel room and I breathe a sigh of relief. My heart rate is still racing, but its no longer from fear.

Despite everything – the prison break, the cops, the kidnapping, everything, there was one thing somehow that I wanted now more than anything else.

Lucien’s cock.

No more stretchers. No more trying to hide my moans and screams. This time we have a proper bed and, at last, I can scream my lungs out. This is it, no holds barred.

Lucien takes one step toward me and, his hands on my waist, he pushes me back against the bed. My knees meet the edge of the mattress and I sit down on it; he pushes me on the shoulders and I fall back, the mattress molding to my figure. I feel my mouth going dry as he climbs on top of me, his biceps bulging under his shirt.

“I love you, Kerri,” he says, his lips just inches away from mine. He’s so close to me that I can almost hear his heart beating. And these three words… Has any sound more beautiful ever been created?

“I love you too, Lucien… Always.”

“Always,” he repeats, my eyelids drooping as he presses his lips against mine. I feel my hard nipples brushing against the fabric of my bra, aching to be set free, and I push him by the shirt, forcing him to press his chest against mine. With him on top of me, we kiss in abandonment, all the memories finally fading away—the anxiety, the danger, the memories of blood… It all goes away, and with just one kiss. No matter what happens, this kiss right here tells me that I made the right choice. I’ve never been one to believe in fairy tales, but Lucien… He’s the one, the man I’ve been waiting for all my life. And wherever the road leads, I’m going to walk it by his side, whatever the cost.

I let my fingers slide under the hem of his shirt, my fingertips running over the warm skin on his back; he pulls back from my kiss then, just for the one second that it takes him to pull his shirt off. I swallow hard, the sight of his chest making me wet. I can already feel my thong becoming soaked, my fluids seeping through the fabric.

He places his index finger over my lips, and gently runs it down my chin. I do nothing but look at him, his finger on me making a shiver go up my spine and then down again. He traces the contour of my chin, then going down to my neck and to the side, only stopping when his fingertip meets the straps of my dress on my shoulders. Gently, he pulls the right one down, and then makes the hike toward my left shoulder, doing the same there. I feel the front of my dress becoming looser, but it’s still covering my bra. Still, I breathe in deeply, patiently waiting for his finger to make his way toward my chest. Once there, he hooks it on the front of my dress and slowly pulls it down, my black bra jumping into sight.

Thump, thump, thump, my heart is beating like a warm drum, his finger delineating the curve of my breasts against the cups of my bra. Spreading his fingers wide, he slowly flattens the palm of his hand against my right breast, a wave of delight surging through me. The pressure on my nipple is maddening, flames of desire spreading from it toward the rest of my body… God, he’s only grabbing my breast and I’m already breathing hard. Anticipation—never underestimate it.

“Lucien,” I say, just wanting to feel his name on my lips. He looks at me, the dimples around his lips forming as he smiles.

“I’m right here,” he whispers, hooking his fingers on the cup of my bra and slowly peeling it off. My rosy nipple jumps into freedom, my skin prickling as I anticipate the touch of his fingers.

I breathe out deeply as he caresses my nipple, tenderly brushing one finger over the aching tip. He circles it with his fingertip, my chest rising and falling as I become oblivious to everything around me, my desire for him the only thing that matters in the whole world. With his thumb and index finger, he presses my nipple, and I moan abruptly, a spark of pleasure flying to my brain.

He keeps applying that tender pressure until my moan turns into a quivering sound, and then he opens his hand and squeezes my whole breast. I bite my lower lip as he leans in, his slightly parted lips aimed at my nipple; he wraps his lips around it, sucking it into his mouth while his tongue laps at it. My hands run through his hair, disheveling it, and I arch my back at the same time, anxious to feel every single inch of his body.